Prologue

A Chapter by Rick Monson

Anne and David Dawson are killed in a space transport explosion.

Anne Dawson pushed back in the plush faux leather seat, brushed a strand of brown hair out of her eyes and rested her head on against the headrest. She could feel the tremble of the space transport floor beneath her and the slow quiet breathing of her husband as he slept in the seat next to her. She moved her body again trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t the uncomfortable seat but her anxious thoughts that kept her awake on this long trip. It also wasn’t the people around her, they were all asleep or enjoying the pleasures of the holo-visnets.

She and her husband, David Dawson, were on an important mission to Benthara. Sent by the HSR, House of System Representation, they were traveling to Benthara to meet with Benthari officials to negotiate their acceptance into the Galactic Theocratum. It was an important step toward bring peace to the Theocratum. Her thoughts centered around the countless hours she had spent with David rehearsing the social graces and protocols of the Benthari.

Thank the Theocratum for the translation matrix. Having to learn a new language on top of learning the social customs and cultural rituals would have just overwhelmed her in its enormity. David seemed so calm and matter-of-fact about all of it that Anne wondered how he really felt about the task ahead of them. He seemed to have no trouble following asleep.

Her mind wandered through the list of cultural greetings. It was tradition when meeting a dignitary of Benthari for the first time to bow on both knees to the ground for a few seconds and wait for their blessing prayer. Some visitors who bowed but straitened to early were not received. To enter into discussion with foreigners without the god’s blessings was unthinkable. They were a gental and kind people if not steeped in tradition.

There were other protocols but Anne was confident that they had rehearsed sufficiently to make a good first impression. She tried to sleep and willed her body to relax back in the comfortable chair. It was not a long journey but the jump site was several hours away and it made sense to try to get some rest.

Again her mind turned to the Benthari. She replayed the holo-vids of dignitaries with their richly ornamented robes in her mind. She could see their solemn expressions highlighted by brilliant glowing blue eyes on somewhat featureless brown humanoid oval faces. It was almost comfortably familiar now. They had no hair on their heads and no nose. Only a slash for a mouth, that seemed to be a very horizontal line at times. It was curious that she had never seen a Benthari smile.

But then she had never met them in person. How did one know they were happy, or sad for that matter? Their emotional temperament was one thing that was not very well understood by the knowledge they had gleaned in the HSR briefs and materials. But honor and respect seemed to be a top priority for these people.

Then there was the subject of their culinary arts. Chilea’s and costocos was a native dish consisting of water fowl and a rice like grain with a savory sauce drizzled over the succulent meat. Having studied their native dishes Anne was looking forward to sampling as many as she could.

She felt a small vibration in her chair that seemed to originate deep from within the bowels of the Matagorda, their large passenger transport ship. It did not alarm her remembering their last trip to the jump site. But the vibration didn’t dissipate, in fact it continued to grow and hum began to make its way through her mind. Tables and seats began to shake jarring the passengers who were now beginning to wake up. Several cups slid off the tray tables.

The vibrations intensified and Anne tapped David on the shoulder, “David!”, she whispered hoarsely, “David! Wake up!”

David groaned softly as he rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Are we there yet?” he mumbled and then jerked awake as the luggage compartment above them opened spilling its contents into the aisle. Several more compartments down the rows opened as well and suitcases, bags, and computer cases clattered to the floor.

“David! Something is wrong,” said Anne.

“What’s going on?” he said as a rumbling could now be heard. The ship was shaking so bad now that David and Anne were having trouble staying in their seats. Everyone was awake now and the stewardess’ were hurrying down the aisles dodging suitcases and purses trying to calm people. Anne looked around trying to hold herself steady as the Matagorda began to buck and kick. Her husband David was looking around with a panicked look on his face. We might not get to meet the Benthari, she thought.

And then suddenly in the midst of chaos everything leveled out and quit as though someone had turned off a light. Before anyone could react there was a loud, extremely gut-wrenching roaring blasting sound filled the room. Anne turned toward the sound and meet a cascade of brilliant white light that filled the cabin disintegrating all in its path. Her final thought as the explosion ripped through the Matagorda was, Oh God!

veled over five hundred miles in the blink of an eye.

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